If Skies Should Fall
by mpspenguin
Summary: An incident five years ago caused Team Rocket to alter forever, forcing its members to change with it. Having made decisions he never thought he would, and years to realise his motives, James finds himself alone at his desk, desperate to explain everything that happened. Through letters, he reveals to Jessie what he did, and- most importantly- why.
1. Transient

_Jessie,_

_I hope this is the right address- I looked for hours to make sure it was you, but I needn't have worried; there aren't any other Jessie Musashis in the whole region._

_This is the twelfth version of this letter so far. I nearly crumpled it up again, because I don't know what to say, but that would make it number thirteen, and the last thing I need is superstition against me as well as everything else._

_I was thinking about everything last night- about what happened all those years ago when we were still tailing that kid, and everything since. It seems strange, knowing that those people used to be us, that we were so set on such a goal._

_The main reason I'm sitting at this desk at four in the morning is that I owe you an explanation for everything that happened. I've been trying to work it out myself for so long, but I suppose part of me knew why I did it the whole time. And I'm finally ready to tell you._

_I'm going to end this letter now, but I won't make you wait for me to write the next one. In fact, by the time you've read this, I'll have finished writing everything. I'll send these all at the same time. Hopefully, I'll be able to explain it properly._

_See you next letter,_

_James_

* * *

_**5 years earlier**_

Giovanni stifled a yawn as the car he was sitting in pulled over to the pavement, gently coming to a halt. The door to his left was opened by the driver; Giovanni stepped out into the open air, the cold sting of winter morning immediately against his skin as his surroundings came into focus.

He'd barely gotten any sleep the night before, and was feeling the lack of rest take its toll: his eyes constantly stung, however much he blinked, and his limbs felt heavy. Despite this, he strode purposefully towards the double doors of the towering building ahead of him, determined not to let his subordinates see him acting weaker than he deemed acceptable. The subordinates in question were two grunts, who he'd brought with him to serve as bodyguards during the meeting in case anything got out of hand. However, they were unrecognisable as part of his syndicate, dressed in black suits and dress shoes so as not to arouse suspicion, or give off the impression of a lack of trust on Giovanni's part. One of them held a briefcase containing stacks of money- pocket change for the Team Rocket boss, but enough to buy him the information he needed.

The grunt without the briefcase quickened his pace so as to reach the glass door before Giovanni, and hastily held it open for his boss. As the three had entered the room, the receptionist stood up, smiling, and walked over to meet them.

"I take it you're here to see Mr Smith?" the receptionist asked, extending a hand to Giovanni who shook it firmly.

"Yes," Giovanni confirmed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the obviously fake name. He'd heard a lot of bad aliases in his profession, but 'Mr Smith' was particularly uncreative. If people were going to give false names, he thought, they might as well be a bit more imaginative about it.

Smiling again, the receptionist extended an arm to a flight of stairs on the right. "He's just up there- it's the first door you'll reach," he said.

Giovanni nodded. "Thank you."

The two grunts walked on either side of him as they climbed the stairs, looking nervous in the presence of their boss. Giovanni didn't notice their unease, however- he was too busy thinking about what this meeting could mean if the offer was accepted, how much he would gain. His lip curled upwards involuntarily at the idea of the power he'd have.

He quickly made his expression neutral as a door came into view, and, after glancing down to make sure his tie was still in place, pushed it open.

A man was sitting behind a desk at the end of the room, shuffling papers around and murmuring something to himself. Behind him were a three other people in suits- two men and a woman- with sunglasses covering their eyes. "_Looks like he doesn't trust me, either," _Giovanni mused with a smirk.

"Ah- Giovanni!" the man greeted, standing up. "I'm very glad you were able to come on such short notice."

Giovanni said nothing, and shook the man's hand with a nod. "Mr Smith, I presume?" he asked, holding back sarcasm.

"Correct," the man said, smiling broadly to show unnaturally whitened teeth. "Well then, let's get to business, I suppose."

"Mm," Giovanni said, keen to see the offer through as quickly as possible. He looked over his shoulder to the grunt, who practically jumped and rushed over to the desk, placing the briefcase on the wooden surface. He undid the metal latches and carefully opened the lid to reveal the numerous wads of cash.

"That's the amount you proposed to my employee over the phone," Giovanni stated, saving 'Mr Smith' asking the awkward question. Smith beckoned the woman behind him over, who proceeded to thumb through the cash, checking that it was genuine. She nodded slightly, and moved back to her original position.

"Well," Smith began, letting his arms drop to his sides, "I expect you're eager to see my part of the bargain fulfilled."

_"Very," _Giovanni thought, but settled on a forced smile instead.

Smith walked back behind his desk, and made his way into the small office behind it. Drumming his fingers against his thigh impatiently, Giovanni watched Smith's employees, and saw that one of them was focused on the large window to the side of the room. Frowning, Giovanni moved his gaze to the spot they were watching, and then narrowed his eyes as he saw a flash of red for a split second. His eyes widened as he realised what it was.

"Sniper!" he yelled to the grunts, ducking rapidly and barely avoiding the bullet that smashed through the window over his head, sprinkling glass onto the carpet. The two grunts quickly reacted, removing the guns on their belts from their holsters and running over to their boss. As Giovanni hastily got to his feet again, the two men and the woman in sunglasses started to fire at him; he fell backwards again as he felt a bullet hit him in the chest, stopped by the bulletproof fabric beneath his shirt but still hitting him with enough force to break his ribs.

He fumbled for his own gun, gritting his teeth in pain and scrambling to his feet; one of the grunts was groaning on the floor, clutching his leg and looking pale at the amount of blood seeping from the wound beneath his fingers. Giovanni was about to grab his subordinate off the ground when he spotted the red dot jiggling on the grunt's forehead; he cried out in warning just as a bullet pierced the man between the eyes, instantly rendering him lifeless.

"Move!" Giovanni told the other grunt, doing his best to ignore the pain in his chest and firing a couple of shots back at his attackers. He heard one of them scream and the thud of a body hitting the ground, but didn't look back to see who his victim was.

His remaining bodyguard looked terrified, desperately trying to reload his gun as they sprinted back through the door they'd come through and began to run back down the stairs. Giovanni's hand moved to his belt, and he pressed the button on the side of it twice- an action which would call backup from HQ to his location. He only hoped that the call would connect in time.

"Sir- they're following us," the grunt panted as they kept going two steps at a time, pushed onwards by adrenaline and the knowledge that stopping would mean certain death. Giovanni risked a glance behind him; they weren't within view, but he could hear their footsteps not far behind and had no doubt that they wouldn't be the only people armed in the building.

"Keep going," Giovanni ordered between breaths. "Don't stop, even once we're outside- that sniper could follow us for a long time."

The two charged through the doors back into the reception, Giovanni swiftly shooting the receptionist before he had a chance to fire at either of them, and the grunt doing the same to their other two assailants, who fell to the ground. They ran outside towards the car only to see the driver slumped forwards on the steering wheel, cracks bordering the bullethole in the windscreen.

"Shit," Giovanni cursed, realising that the front wheels were flat. "They've shot the tyres." He kept sprinting, the grunt following close behind, and stopped at the first vehicle he came to; a red, expensive-looking car that probably belonged to one of the employees at the neighbouring bank. Wincing at the growing pain from where the bullet had hit his ribs, Giovanni smashed the window of the front door of the car with the butt of his gun, ignoring the alarm that promptly began to shriek and reaching inside. He unlocked the door expertly, and dived in, hurriedly shifting over to the passenger's seat. "Drive," he said to the grunt, who nodded quickly and climbed in after him.

The engine rumbled to life after the grunt managed to turn it on, using an advanced lockpick each agent carried for emergencies; he slammed his foot on the accelerator, letting out a terrified yelp as the side window shattered from another gunshot. He sighed with relief as he realised he hadn't been hit, and drove the car forwards as fast as he could down the road.

After turning a corner sharply and moving away from the block of buildings, the grunt relaxed a little, though didn't stop driving.

"Should I return to HQ, sir?" he asked, unable to hide the tremor in his voice. He'd just watched his colleague get shot through the head, and had by no means recovered from the experience. Looking over at his boss, the grunt cried out in shock and abruptly stopped the car.

Blood was trickling steadily from a hole in Giovanni's neck, the skin around the wound torn and ruptured to show the sickening sight of pale pink flesh. His eyes were staring ahead of him, his face neutral of any kind of emotion.

Moving away instinctively from the corpse, the grunt got out of the car, running a hand through his brown hair and then clutching his head with his hands. Luckily, the road was clear of any other vehicles so early in the morning, but that did little to make the Rocket feel better.

"Oh god..." he muttered, the weight of the situation becoming clearer the more he thought about it. The leader of Team Rocket- the man respected by every member of the organisation and known throughout the regions- was dead. And- even worse than that- the grunt was the one who had to explain it to everyone. It had happened so suddenly and without any kind of prolonged drama that it almost didn't seem real. Somehow, it was hard to believe that Giovanni wasn't immortal.

Five minutes passed, during which the man sat on the edge of the pavement and tried to control his breathing. He exhaled deeply, staring at the unfamiliar polished black shoes he was wearing, and got up again, knowing that the longer he stayed, the more likely it was that he'd be followed. Grimacing at the sight of the body, he looked around to check that he was still alone, and then lifted the corpse out of the vehicle, straining at the effort of the task. He then opened the back door of the car, and pulled Giovanni's body across the rear seats so that it wasn't so obvious that his passenger was a dead man (he'd considered putting him in the trunk, but that somehow seemed insulting to a man he had always held in such high esteem, even if he was dead). After a moment's thought, he then took off his jacket, and spread it over Giovanni's chest so that the blood on his neck was hidden. To anyone looking in, it'd look like he was sleeping.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," the grunt cursed repeatedly, wishing that he could turn back time and prevent it all from happening, furious at himself for failing to save his boss. He was willing to take a bullet for the man, but, unintentionally, the opposite had happened- even if Giovanni hadn't exactly been trying to save the grunt's life when the bullet had torn through his windpipe.

He wondered how the hell he was going to tell the people back at headquarters; he couldn't even begin to imagine their reaction when he pulled up to the building in a different car than the one he'd arrived in, riddled with bullet holes and containing the dead leader of their syndicate in the back. _"It wasn't my fault," _he told himself, getting back into the driver's seat and pushing back a sob. _"I did everything I could. It's not like I went against any orders." _A little calmer, he turned back onto the freeway, ignoring the speed limit completely as he watched the red needle on the speedometer move clockwise.

Somewhere in the near distance, police sirens began to sound, wailing in altering tones in unconscious acknowledgement of the damage caused. The sun began to stain the clouds orange in the brightening sky as the car moved onwards, crimson against the stretch of endless grey.

* * *

By the time Jessie, James and Meowth reached the canteen, it was almost empty, only a couple of cleaners and the cafeteria staff themselves seated at the tables in twos and threes.

"What time is it?" Jessie asked, frowning at the slim pickings leftover for them to choose from.

"Um..." James replied, glancing around. "Three," he finished as he located the clock hanging on the wall.

"Ugh," Jessie groaned, letting out a sigh. "The one day we actually get to stay at headquarters, we miss lunch. Of course."

"Eh, it ain't dat bad," Meowth said, struggling to get a look at the food left on offer. "I mean, dere's... Carrot sticks. Or water- dat's always good..."

The three had spent the whole morning- and the first part of the afternoon- trying (unsuccessfully) to spy on Team Flare. They'd had to abort the mission, however, when a grunt overheard one of them whispering into an earpiece whilst still in disguise, and sounded the alarm. It had been an uncomfortable exit, to say the least: James still felt the odd jolt of static from the fence he hadn't realised was electric until he was halfway done escaping over it.

"Well, I suppose we could stay for a little longer," Jessie pondered aloud. "I mean, as long as we don't stop working... The boss probably won't notice, anyway."

"We'd probably be doin' Team Rocket a favour if we DID stop workin' for a while," Meowth smirked. "It'd be less expensive."

"Don't say that," James mumbled, furrowing his brow. "We came really close this morning!"

"What, like every other mission we've ever been on?" Meowth retorted, but shook his head a little. "Nah- we're not failures. Not completely, anyway. We got rid of Team Plasma back in Unova- dat's gotta count for somethin'."

Concluding that there was no point in choosing from the meagre amount of food in front of them, the three Rockets instead made their way to the vending machine in the coridoor. When James pointed out that they didn't have any money, Jessie kicked the machine until a couple of sandwiches and a bag of crisps came loose from their stands, and fell to the hatch at the base.

"Jessie!" James hissed nervously, glancing around and expecting to see some high-ranking executive glaring in their direction. To his relief, there were only a few grunts gathered around someone's phone and laughing simultaneously every ten seconds or so at some picture on the screen, clearly oblivious to the thuds of Jessie's boot hitting the machine.

"Relax," Jessie said, rolling her eyes and handing James and Meowth a sandwich each. "No one's looking at us- besides, we should get bonus points for stealing in an organisation like this."

"I'm not sure Giovanni would see it that way," James said weakly, but smiled and took a hungry bite out of the sandwich. "Thanks."

"Uh, ya got any strength left you'd like to take out on da machine?" Meowth questioned Jessie hopefully, having already eaten his sandwich. James bit his tongue to stop himself yelping as Jessie charged into the vending machine side on, triggering an almighty 'bang' that echoed around the hallway.

"Careful!" he whispered, his voice escalating far above its normal pitch as a couple of the grunts glanced over at them.

"Oops," Jessie remarked as half the machine's contents fell to the bottom. "Oh well. Take your pick."

Meowth quickly grabbed at least five sandwiches and a few chocolate bars, instinctively trying to gather the food whilst it was available as he was so used to doing without it. Jessie and James more modestly took a bag of chips each and some sweets, not wanting to draw attention by walking back to their room with armfuls of food.

They walked back to their dormitory slowly, enjoying the novelty of not having to rush for a change; Meowth had eaten half of the food he'd taken by the time they reached their door.

"I seriously don't know how you're not overweight," Jessie told the cat as she nudged the door open with her hip.

"Hey! I need my food! Besides, when we're on da field, we don't get to eat for days at a time. Dis is compensation for all dat," Meowth said defensively.

The three ate their rather unhealthy lunches in silence, not due to a lack of conversation to be had but rather caused by their realisation at how hungry they were- none of them had eaten breakfast due to the mission.

"What should we do now?" James asked when they had finished eating, and discarded all the wrappers in the bin.

"Dunno," Meowth shrugged. "We could take it easy for once, or-"

"Or what about getting some supplies for a new mech?" Jessie butted in excitedly. "We could make a blueprint and build it for tomorrow's plan!"

"Or that," the cat Pokemon grumbled, his hopes of a relaxing afternoon dashed.

"Great," James agreed, standing up. "It'll be nice to work with more than scrap metal."

On their way back through headquarters towards the supply rooms, Meowth stopped in his tracks, his ear twitching.

"What?" Jessie prompted, looking back at him.

"Sounds like there's a lot of people just outside," Meowth told her. They peered outside of the window: sure enough, a crowd of Rockets stood just outside of the building, constantly growing in numbers as more people joined.

"It looks important," James noted. "Maybe we should see what's going on."

Jessie and Meowth nodded their agreement, and the trio made their way through the doors into the cold open air, the murmuring clearer.

A car was parked in the middle of the concrete patch before them, away from the carpark in an unusual manner. It appeared to have just come to a halt; a man in a suit stepped out of the front, and was immediately greeted with several guns pointed at his head.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" one agent demanded as the man was roughly grabbed by two other Rockets, assumed to be a spy.

"No- I work here!" the man protested, struggling to free his arms from the two agents holding him. "My ID is in my trouser pocket."

The agent who'd questioned him verified the claim as he pulled the ID out of the grunt's pocket, but didn't soften his expression. "Why are you dressed like that?"

Before the grunt could answer, a scream sounded to his left as a Rocket opened the back door of the car, and then stumbled backwards, his face drained of colour.

"What is it?" Jessie asked, craning her neck to try and get a better look at the scene.

"I don't know," James muttered back.

"Oh my god," someone else gasped as they reached the car. The agent interrogating the grunt moved around to get a better view, and knelt down, pulling a jacket out of the vehicle. His eyes were wide as he turned back to the grunt in the suit.

"What did you do?" he screeched, trembling slightly.

"I didn't kill him!" the grunt insisted, casting petrified glances at the people around him. "You can check my log- I was assigned to go with him this morning! Please, let me go!"

"Kill who?" someone else asked aloud, causing the crowd to ring with chatter again, people pushing forwards to try and see what was happening.

"Don't shoot me," the grunt begged, tears forming in his eyes. "I tried to stop it, I swear!"

"Take him inside for questioning later," an executive ordered. "Don't hurt him- we have no evidence that he's done anything wrong."

Shouts were erupting from the crowd now, people frustrated at the lack of information.

"Who is it? Who's dead?"

"Come on, let us see!"

"Oh shit, there's blood on that guy's suit..."

"It's Giovanni."

The crowd was plunged into an unsettling silence at the executive's two words.

"W-what?" someone stuttered after a few seconds, unable to believe such a statement.

"What happened?" the executive asked the grunt softly, gesturing for the two agents to release him. The grunt caught his balance, and cleared his throat slightly.

"I was with Giovanni and another grunt this morning- we were going to a meeting," the grunt began nervously. "We brought the money- it all seemed to be normal- but then, a sniper started to shoot at us, and..."

He trailed off momentarily, exhaling. "The other grunt got shot, so we ran back down out of the building and killed the people following us. The driver who'd taken us there was dead when we got outside, and the tyres were flat, so we had to find another car; we managed to get in, but after I'd driven away, I realised that the boss had been hit in the neck." The man looked down, lowering his voice. "It's true. Giovanni's dead."

* * *

The three Rockets sat in shocked silence in the lobby, none of them sure of what to say. After the news had been announced to the crowd, they'd all been told to return inside as the body was carefully removed from the car. Even so, people still gathered at windows to watch it happen; the body's face had been covered with a cloth so as not to cause any unnecessary distress, but it was clear who it was laid out on the ground nonetheless. Despite the evidence, the fact hadn't really sunk in with anyone yet.

"It can't _really _be true," Jessie said after a long while. "Giovanni wouldn't let himself get killed."

"But you heard them say it," James mumbled back, not looking up. "I suppose he was so in control all the time that we all sort of forgot that he was human."

"Apparently he called for back up," an agent sitting in the corner chimed in. "They only got the message like, an hour ago- something about the signal being disrupted in the building."

"Do we know anything about who ordered the attack yet?" a grunt asked, fiddling distractedly with her hair.

"Don't think so," the agent replied. "It might have been another organisation, or someone after the money he took, or even the cops."

"I feel sick," Meowth said quietly. He seemed to be handling it the worst of the three, which was natural, considering the way he'd always idolised Giovanni, desperate to win his respect. Although the leader of the syndicate had done his fair bit of shouting at the trio, he'd always given them a second chance, and had trusted them to accompany him on more than one occasion. All that considered, none of them were taking the news lightly.

Jessie reached over and put a hand on Meowth's paw, trying her best to comfort the Pokemon but unsure of what to offer verbally.

"What's going to happen now?" James whispered. "How are they meant to know what to do when there's no one here to take orders from?"

"An executive or someone will fill in for the moment," Jessie responded softly. "I don't think that's what we should be worrying about right now. They could be planning another attack."

James shuddered. He didn't want to think about the possibility that the ordeal wasn't yet over- it sounded like enough people had died already.

Everyone in the room looked up as the grunt- still wearing the black suit- entered the lobby, looking utterly miserable. Avoiding eye contact, he trudged over to the corner of the room and sat down on one of the chairs, resting his head in his hands.

"What did they ask you?" one agent inquired interestedly, ignoring the grunt's obvious exhaustion.

Wearily, the grunt looked up at the speaker, his eyes heavy. "They wanted to know if I shot him. Half of them are still convinced I did it."

"Well, did you?" the agent said.

"No! Of course not! Why would I drive back here with his body in the car if I had killed him?" the grunt snapped. "I watched my partner die, and risked my life helping the boss- and when I get back, everyone accuses me of murder. I just want to be alone, but they won't even let me leave this floor until they're certain I didn't do it."

The grunt slumped back in his seat dejectedly, deciding not to say any more on the subject. He was too tired to argue.

"Can we go upstairs?" Meowth asked quietly. James realised that the cat was still staring at the car through the window, his expression unreadable. Nodding, Jessie pushed herself up, waiting for her two team mates to do the same before leading the way to their room.

None of them had ever disliked Giovanni, but they hadn't realised that they cared quite so much about him either.


	2. Faded Whitewash

Uncertain murmuring rang throughout the room as the last few people assembled, struggling to find empty seats and some having to settle on standing at the back. A week had passed since the news of Giovanni's death, and not much more had been revealed. Whilst it was clear that whoever did kill him had been after more than the small briefcase of money he'd been carrying, the person behind the attack had fled the scene, and the fact that the police had inevitably begun an investigation on the multiple bodies in the building made it impossible for Team Rocket to return to the location. The lack of any leader meant that so far little had happened; most of the agents had returned to the closest headquarters since missions had been suspended.

"What do you think they're going to tell us?" Jessie asked, lowering her voice. A meeting had been called for everyone present in the building that morning, though little detail had been given. All they knew was that it concerned everyone, and would be broadcast to the other headquarters as it took place. Needless to say, it sounded important.

"I don't know," James replied. "Probably just an update on the current situation. Your guess is as good as mine."

"Maybe dey're gonna tell us who da new boss is," Meowth speculated softly, not looking up. The shock of the news had worn off, but none of the trio had gotten used to the fact that their boss wouldn't be around anymore. It was just too strange and sad a thought to dwell on.

Before either of the humans had a chance to respond to the Pokemon's conjecture, a figure stepped up onto the elevated platform at the front of the hall, triggering the quick descent of silence in the crowd as agents hurriedly ended conversations mid-sentence and hushed those who hadn't yet realised the need to do so.

The person on the stage made their way forwards to a small podium, stepping away from the shaded portion of the room as they did so to reveal their face. James immediately recognised the man as Pierce, someone who'd helped Jessie, Meowth and him over the course of their time in Unova. He was wearing his usual grey uniform, without the collar he sometimes used to cover the lower part of his face. It was clear from his expression that he didn't want to be addressing the crowd; James guessed that his status as an elite agent meant that he was a good candidate for a speaker, and therefore had been elected to do it.

Adjusting the microphone in front of him so that it was positioned in front of his mouth, Pierce swallowed, and briefly studied the group of Rockets below him before speaking.

"It will have undoubtedly come to the attention of every single one of you that Giovanni has been killed," he began, moving his look periodically between the people present in the room and the camera at the back, aware that the majority of his audience would be watching his speech on a screen. "What was expected to be a low-security meeting last week turned out to be a planned assassination. One of our members successfully made it back alive, and is currently being questioned on the exact events that took place. Although we know the location of the attack, police interference has so far kept us from examining the building."

Pierce drew in a breath, his usual confidence slightly impaired by the weight of the speech he was making. He frowned and cleared his throat, his olive green eyes as sharp as his name suggested as they flickered between spots in the room, and then settled back on the lens of the camera.

"Giovanni was a great leader- one who led this organisation to heights unachieved by any other syndicate on this planet," Pierce continued, the microphone projecting his voice so it echoed around the room. "His outstanding judgement and ability to use reason in even the most dire of situations made him a truly remarkable commander."

There were a few mutters of agreement within the crowd as Pierce paused to collect his thoughts, brow furrowed. "However," he said, again meeting the camera with an unwavering and attentive gaze, "the loss of such a leader does not by any means render us broken. An army without a general is still as strong as its number, still capable of success. It has come to our attention that some of you believe that this is the end of our institution. What we want to illustrate today is that this is not the case- far from it.

"We will not be disbanded by such an event; Giovanni did not take his mother's passing as a reason to give up, and I am sure he would hate to think that his goals would die with him. We are currently in the process of establishing his replacement, which is a challenging task, due to the fact that he had no direct heir. In the meantime, field missions will be indefinitely suspended. Nevertheless, we will be working towards finding the people behind this attack, and eliminating any threat towards our organisation. We cannot afford to let our enemies think our guard is down because of this tragedy."

Pierce stopped speaking for a couple of seconds to let the information he had just given his subordinates sink in, and brushed a strand of his long, navy hair behind his ear. "It is undeniable that there is a distinct possibility that the car that made it back to our headquarters was followed. As a result, we will be taking every action to tighten security for the next few weeks. Any suspicious behaviour should immediately be reported to a senior member of staff. We will make sure to broadcast all important information." He leant forwards slightly, hands pressed against either side of the wooden podium for support so his fingernails dug into the oak.

"This death marks the end of an era, one which will not be forgotten," Pierce stated, his voice still and objective as it was thrown forwards in the hall. "It marks the fragility of even the most powerful of us, and carries the reminder that there is no such thing as invincibility." His eyes were unblinking and determined as he said the next sentence. "It does not, in any way, mark the end of Team Rocket."

James heard a faint click behind him as the camera at the back of the room was switched off; Pierce relaxed visibly, his shoulders slumping slightly as he looked downwards and stepped away from the podium. There was an uneasy silence before applause broke out, the sound of clapping ringing around the room as Pierce scowled at his feet, not acknowledging the acclamation for his talk but rather swiftly making his way off the stage, avoiding eye contact.

"That was a bit shorter than I thought it would be," Jessie noted, using the volume in the room to her advantage, since she could speak without everyone hearing her. "I mean, he only spoke for a couple of minutes."

"They probably just want to make sure that people know what the situation is, as far as Team Rocket as a whole is concerned," another agent said, joining the conversation out of interest, "which must mean that a lot of people are leaving- or planning to. Otherwise they wouldn't be so eager to spout all that stuff about this not being the end of it all."

"Wait- so you think some people are giving up already?" James asked worriedly.

"Not after that speech," the agent replied. "Besides, even if people _are _talking about leaving, only a fraction of them will have the guts to actually do it. If you leave with a lot of information about Team Rocket, you're essentially just becoming a civilian who knows too much. Loose ends and all that, you know? And god knows what'd happen if people started joining _other _syndicates!" The agent smirked, shaking his head a little. "No, they won't let that happen. I reckon they'd either blackmail you into staying or bump you off if you still were adamant about going."

"Team Rocket doesn't just kill people like that," Jessie argued, but she sounded wavering in her assertion.

"The boss might've avoided it, but sometimes there's not any room left to be kind," the agent responded, folding his arms so that the red 'R' on his shirt crumpled, disfiguring the letter. "If someone's a serious hazard to security, they're not going to let them run around just because killing isn't our style. I mean, even the government does it when they have to." He chuckled, and then added in a cynical manner: "And sometimes when they don't."

"So, dat speech was designed to avoid dem havin' to kill off half deir agents," Meowth concluded darkly. "So much for all dat team spirit crap."

"It might not be that," James protested, frowning. "It's just a theory- none of us know enough about what's going on to..." (he paused, trying to think of the appropriate word to use) "... analyse the whole thing."

"Did ya see Pierce up there, Jim?" Meowth asked, raising his eyebrows slightly. "He was terrified of messin' up! Dat amount a' pressure must mean dat somethin's goin' badly wrong."

"Yeah, but... They're making sure it's fixed," James said. He nodded to himself as if to back up his point, since no one else seemed to.

"I hope so," Jessie sighed, and bit her lip anxiously. "Either way, there's no point worrying about it, since there's not really anything we can do. I guess we'll just have to wait until the next announcement."

Heads turned towards the door of the hall as a couple of agents burst through it, breathing heavily with flushed cheeks.

"Where's Pierce?" one of them questioned, sounding a little desperate and looking around for his superior.

"Here," Pierce replied, raising an arm to make himself more visible and abandoning the path he'd been taking towards the exit at the back of the room. He looked concerned at the urgency in the agent's voice, and briskly made his way over to the pair. "What's wrong?" he prompted when he'd reached them.

"It's Andreas, sir," the agent said, catching his breath. When Pierce looked unsure of the name, the agent explained: "The agent we have posing as a cop and gathering intel."

"Go on," Pierce nodded, the people around him listening with interest.

"He's just radioed in to us for an update- apparently the police have become aware that we're in a vulnerable state. He's not sure how much they know, or how they know it, but he says they're preparing to make a move," the agent told him.

Pierce mouthed something that was probably a swear word, and then looked intently at the two agents. "What kind of move?" he pressed.

"By the sounds of it, they're planning to make a bust here very soon," the female agent said. "We don't know much more than that- we can get you on the line with Andreas if you want, and give you all the details, sir," she suggested, jerking her thumb towards the corridor behind her.

When Pierce signalled for them to lead the way, the two agents quickly walked back through the door, holding it open for him before the three moved out of sight.

"How the hell did the cops find out about all this?" Jessie asked as the door shut, her eyes wide.

"Maybe we're not the only ones with spies," the other agent suggested, rubbing his head with worry. "There could be a cop in disguise anywhere in this building, or the other HQs."

"Dis is bad..." Meowth muttered. "So what, Andrew or Andreas- whatever his name is- is a Team Rocket agent pretending to be a cop?" he asked.

"Yeah, that's what they said," James agreed. "It must be terrifying, being in disguise all the time and working so close to the enemy..."

"Let's follow Pierce," Jessie said softly, grabbing James' arm and nudging Meowth with the toe of her boot.

"What?" James yelped as he was dragged towards the door by his sleeve, trying in vain to regain control of the direction in which he was going. "Jessie, he's not going to let us go with him! This sounds like classified information!"

Jessie rolled her eyes, and sighed impatiently. "That's what eavesdropping is for, idiot," she told him, her tone sharp. "Hurry up- we'll lose them if we don't get a move on."

"What if dey see us?" Meowth objected.

"I think they'll be too preoccupied worrying about what this Andreas guy said to notice a couple of agents behind them," Jessie answered, pushing the door open with her free hand. "Besides, we'll be sneaky."

"This doesn't seem like a good idea," James said apprehensively as they entered the hallway. Jessie looked down either end of the corridor, ignoring him, and then- spotting Pierce as he hastily climbed a set of stairs- moved forwards briskly, gesturing to her team mates.

"Come on," she instructed quietly, and let go of James' arm. He stood still for a few moments, watching Jessie and a reluctant Meowth progress down the hall in a manner that he supposed was meant to look natural, and glanced around, trying to think of something, anything, that would persuade his resolute partner not to go ahead with the half-baked and rash course of action. But of course, no such thought sprang to mind, and so, unwillingly, he jogged for a few steps to catch up to his two comrades, and then assumed a normal pace beside them.

"Wait for a few seconds," Jessie whispered, stretching an arm out to her side in front of James and Meowth as a signal to stop walking. She eyed Pierce as he rushed up the last few stairs after the agents in front of him, his back to the trio, and vanished into the next passageway. "Okay," she said with a nod, moving to the staircase and ascending it as quickly as she dared, gloved fingertips brushing the banister as her shoes clicked rhythmically against the wooden steps.

James nearly tripped twice in his attempt to match Jessie's speed, only just saving himself from the painful descent backwards by grabbing onto the railing to his right the second time he stumbled. Jessie either didn't notice her partner's difficulty in keeping up with her pace or didn't care, her attention focused on Pierce.

"He went in that room at the end," Jessie murmured, peeking through the small, rectangular frame in the opening they'd reached. She pushed the metal handle down, leaning the rest of her weight against the heavy door so it swung slowly open, the well-maintained and oiled hinges silent as they moved. Jessie kept going until she was outside the office that Pierce had gone into, and leant casually against the wall neighbouring the entrance, waving James and Meowth over. A faint smile flickered on her lips. "Now we wait," she said, pressing her ear against the door.

"What if there are cameras here?" James hissed, scanning the ceiling for any signs of the dreaded machinery. "Someone could walk in- or what if they open the door again and see us here?" he asked, his fear apparent in both his voice and expression.

"Jeez, James, relax," Jessie replied, and raised a finger to her mouth. "And shut up. I'm trying to listen."

Grudgingly, James crouched down on the other side of the door, catching Meowth's eye with a wary expression and getting a sympathetic shrug in return. He shifted so he could hear better, paranoid that someone would see them at any second. For a fleeting moment, knelt down on the grubby tiled floor with his head resting against the entrance of the room, James wondered how his life had got to this point. His past self, rich and spoiled in his childhood estate, would surely not have believed it if he was told that before the time he was twenty-five he would be a notorious member of a criminal organisation, wanted by the authorities and set on goals he never would have cared about previously. James shrugged the thought off with a small smirk.

"Can we call Andreas, then?" came Pierce's voice from inside the office, full of an urgency James hadn't heard in his tone before. He cursed something incomprehensible, and then said, "Do the other headquarters know about this?"

"We sent a message to each of our bases as soon as we received the news, sir," one of the agents replied. No one said anything for a few seconds. "I can't connect the call, sir," the agent said eventually.

"What do you mean, 'can't connect'?" Pierce demanded. "There's a signal, isn't there?"

"I- he's not picking up, sir," the Rocket stuttered, intimidated by the higher-up's forceful attitude (albeit out of character).

"For fuck's sake!" Pierce growled loudly, this time fully audible even through the layer of wall; James thought he heard the sound of a chair being kicked over, though he wasn't sure.

"Should I try again, sir?" the female agent inquired meekly, after giving Pierce some time to vent.

"No," Pierce exhaled, sounding frustrated but calmer. "He might not be answering because he's in danger of being compromised. We shouldn't do anything that might worsen the situation- wait for him to call back." He discontinued his speech again, and then asked: "Do we have any other agents with information on police activity that we could contact?"

"Not ones who are either trusted enough by the police to know what's going on, or in the right area, since they're only targeting this building at present," the male Rocket said. "We checked the database, and there's no one else."

"Okay. Tell me everything Andreas said to you," Pierce ordered.

"He called about half an hour ago- he sounded like he was in a hurry, probably because he couldn't get away from the other officers for very long without being overheard- and said that he'd heard some cops talking about a mission involving launching a surprise attack on this base. They said that they're putting all their manpower into it- more than a hundred officers on foot, helicopters, cars- everything they've got.

"He asked them why they were suddenly going back to targeting Team Rocket, and someone told him that Giovanni had been killed. Said he didn't ask how they knew, 'cause he didn't want to seem overly-interested about the whole thing to avoid suspicion, but one of them said that it was soon, either tonight or early tomorrow morning.

"Apparently, these were only low-ranking officers talking, so he's not sure how accurate all the facts are, but it's obvious that they are planning something in the near future," the agent said. "After that, I could hear a door opening, and Andreas hung up."

"Shit," Pierce swore. "I just hope that his cover wasn't blown." He hesitated before speaking again. "We can't combat a force that big," he said. "If we tried to take them on directly, we'd only be able to slow them down for a little while, and we'd risk a large number of agents being taken into custody. Even if we _were_ victorious, they'd still know the location of this base. They could easily call backup. It'd be foolish to even try fighting them."

"What do you suggest as a course of action, sir?" James heard the female Rocket ask.

"We don't have time to try and form a plan to distract or trick them," Pierce mused out loud. "There's not really much choice- we're going to have to desert this base before they get here."

Neither of the agents responded to this statement.

"Whoa," Jessie whispered, looking over at James. "This sounds really serious."

"We're abandoning this HQ?" James repeated incredulously in a lowered voice. He felt the build up of adrenaline at the very notion of such a plan.

"Betta dan gettin' busted by da cops," Meowth reminded him.

Their conversation was cut short by the trill of a ringtone from inside the room- the three quickly turned their attention back to listening in on Pierce and the other two people.

"It's Andreas, sir," the woman said after answering the call.

"Let me talk to him," Pierce said. "Hello? Andreas- thank god."

James realised that eavesdropping would be a lot harder when they could only hear Pierce's side of the verbal exchange over the phone: he looked over at Jessie, but she only motioned to stay.

"Yes, so I've been told," Pierce replied to whatever Andreas had said on the other side of the connection. "What else is going on? We need to know everything as soon as possible." About twenty seconds passed. "Oh, I see," Pierce said. "Crap. Two AM? That doesn't give us much time... Keep trying to find out what you can. Yeah. Oh, well, the plan is just to hold our ground and wait for them to make their move, and then pretend to surrender. When they think they've won, we'll start fighting back. It's going to be dicey, but it's all we've got so far. Yeah, thanks. I'll be in touch."

There was a faint beep as Pierce ended the call.

"...Sir?" the male agent said, sounding utterly confused. "Is there a change of plan?"

"The cops know Andreas is a Rocket," Pierce told him sternly, much to James' surprise. "He used the code sentence we prepared for such a situation when talking to me. Most likely, they overheard him when he was calling you earlier, and then, knowing his real identity, forced him to call us a second time just now and pretend that everything was fine, to try and find out what we're planning to do. They must have been listening in on that entire conversation."

"So... His cover's blown?" the woman concluded.

"Yes, as if enough hadn't already gone wrong," Pierce said angrily. "So everything Andreas just told me was a load of bullshit that the police made him say to try and throw us off. Which means that they're planning to move in much earlier than two AM, so we'd be unprepared. I just made up a fake plan so that they're expecting us to fight. In their eyes, I just filled Andreas in on what's going on, and told him the truth. At least they're clueless that we know he's been found out. It won't resolve the problem completely, but this way they won't be anticipating us to go anywhere."

"The police made him lie to you?" the male Rocket parroted. "Would he really do what they said?"

Pierce sighed. "A Team Rocket member who can retrieve information from us is of huge value to the cops," he explained wearily. "They'll have blackmailed and threatened him until he had little choice but to obey them. To his credit, he did think to use the code."

"Wow, quick thinking," Jessie said, sounding impressed with Pierce for coming up with such a ruse on his feet the way he had.

"That's not what you should be focusin' on!" Meowth replied. "Da cops just got onto us, and den Pierce realised what da cops were doin'- a lot just happened!"

James groaned. "I'm so confused..."

"The bottom line is, Pierce just tricked the police," Jessie responded tersely.

"We're wasting time here," Pierce announced from inside the room. "We have a few hours at best to prepare. Wipe the computers, and destroy anything else that the cops might want to get their hands on. Load anything important or valuable into the cargo trucks- get the grunts to do that. Make sure everyone knows what's going on. We'll move to the headquarters in Unova- this isn't a huge base, so there should be enough space on the aircraft we have available. Be ready to leave at five PM."

"Yes sir," the two agents chorused. James panicked as he realised that they were walking towards the door, their footsteps growing steadily louder.

"Move!" Jessie said, springing to her feet and quickly pulling Meowth away from the office. James got up with as much speed as was possible, and started to walk with Jessie down the hallway, trying to look normal as the two agents appeared behind him. He braved a quick look over his shoulder: the female Rocket glared suspiciously at him for a moment, but didn't stick around, clearly keen to get on with her assigned task.

"So we're really packin' up and leavin' dis base?" Meowth said.

"Seems so," Jessie breathed. "I suppose it's not the worst thing to happen..."

"That's if we manage to leave in time," James said under his breath. "We don't even know when the police are really getting here."

"Oh, stop being so negative," Jessie tutted.

"Yeah, please," Meowth concurred. "I tink my blood pressure's high enough."

It took three minutes to reach the main reception, where the woman behind the desk informed them as they passed by that the building was being evacuated, and that they should help carry supplies.

"I just got a message about it," she said, almost chattily. "They should be reporting it over the intercom soon. Anyway, you'll want to head to the garages outside."

"Thanks," Jessie smiled.

As they reached the large slab of a door, ridges pressed into the rusted metal, the speakers- as predicted- crackled to life, and a man made the announcement, twice to ensure that everyone heard it. Agents had already started to congregate outside, many of them asking questions that were replied to by their peers with uninformed and largely made-up answers.

James couldn't help but think, as he watched the people in front of him start to carry crates in preparation to leave, that Giovanni was spinning in his newly-dug grave.


	3. Sweet Monotony

For how long they'd been flying, James didn't know. He didn't have a means of telling the time on his person, and was too preoccupied listening to the other agents in hope of a good piece of news- and indeed in fear of a bad one- to ask anyone else.

The windows lining each side of the aircraft did little to make the situation clearer; there was no visible police presence in the sky, but the thick clouds engulfing them stopped such a fact from offering any comfort. James knew that anything more than twenty five metres away would be impossible to see, and although the pilot must have had a radar, he was clueless as to whether it was picking up more than the Team Rocket planes flying next to them.

"Good timing, all dis," Meowth said, turning his head to the window beside him. He realised that his team mates were confused, and waved a paw. "I mean, right after dat speech."

Jessie let out a ragged laugh, leaning further back in her chair with crossed arms. "Yeah, well, that's just our luck, isn't it?"

She sighed, pushing her hands against the seat so she was more upright again.

"Dis isn't our style, dough," Meowth went on, frowning. "Da boss'd always stand his ground and find some loophole to make da cops look like idiots. He was right in deir faces with it all- even ran a public gym!" His smile faded quickly. "And now we're just runnin' away."

"That was when Giovanni was still running things," Jessie reminded him. "Besides, you should be used to it by now. Running away I mean."

Meowth smirked, almost bitterly. "Ya gotta point dere."

James shifted in his seat, struggling to get comfortable with the two seatbelts forming an 'X' across his chest, biting the skin under his shirt. He considered just undoing them, but didn't want to risk getting thrown around should there be turbulence, or any kind of circumstance that might make the pilot resort to reckless flying.

"Do you think we left in time?" he asked, after a few minutes of no one saying anything.

"I reckon so," Jessie answered with a shrug, "but it's difficult to say for certain. We've got no way of telling whether the police bought Pierce's fake plan, or when they were planning to actually raid the base." She paused in thought. "I guess they could have got there just after we left, but at the same time, they could still be preparing for the attack."

"Ugh- I don't want ta tink about da foist possibility," Meowth grimaced.

"Well, we must nearly be there by now anyway," Jessie said. It was harder to tell with only the odd patch of visible sky, but it was evidently much darker than it was when they'd left the Team Rocket base, after checking as scrutinously as time allowed that they'd taken all the precautions necessary.

"Yeah, seems like it," James agreed.

"I dunno," Meowth replied, a worried expression creeping onto his face again. "Didn't dey say dat we were gonna go all da way back to Unova, since da cops'll be expectin' us to head to the nearest base?" he pointed out.

"Oh yeah," Jessie said, before nodding again. "But it shouldn't take _that _long, even so. We must be going pretty damn fast."

"Do you really think there's a spy in Team Rocket?" James blurted, getting their attention. "It would explain how the police caught on to our situation so quickly," he explained, more softly this time.

Jessie sighed. "I honestly don't know, James," she told him. "I doubt it, considering how careful they are before trusting agents with information."

"But, that was before everything started going wrong," James countered. He glanced around to check no one was within earshot before continuing. "And if we managed to eavesdrop on them, how hard could it be for someone else to?"

He waited for Jessie to roll her eyes, to tell him he was stupid and argue back. When she just stared ahead, he scanned her expression for any kind of indication that she thought he was wrong, looking for the familiar crease that formed in her brow before she voiced her disagreement to something. When he saw nothing, he wished he'd kept the query to himself, lest she should confirm his fear.

"Not very," Jessie finally said, not turning her head to face him. "You're right- there's no real structure. I guess that now that Giovanni's gone, everyone's too busy just trying to keep things running at all to bother keeping an eye out for people skulking around."

Against the denying sentences he kept chanting over and over in his mind, James found himself agreeing with her; Pierce had taken very minimal measures in making sure that he wasn't followed, leaving himself open for just about anybody with a basic level of expertise in sneaking to tail- and in Team Rocket, that meant everyone.

Hours passed. All three of them remained unusually quiet, concentrating on their surroundings, the smudge of blue and grey through the window. The only interesting thing that really happened in the duration of the time they spent there was when the pilot instructed everyone to get to their seats, and rumour quickly formed that the police had finally caught up; the suspicions were dismissed when it turned out that the blip on the radar had only been an airline plane.

The vehicle dipped down in the sky, and in just fleeting moments, there it was: Unova, like a neatly-drawn map with its carefully divided sections, forests of trees and buildings neighbouring each other in attractive contrast, never quite managing to touch. James mused that, although pretty, he'd never like to permanently reside in such a place; his time there, much like a lot of the region itself, had been notably serious, organised to the point where he'd felt a lack of character. It seemed that that was the price for success, to feel like more than a walking joke.

He expected either Jessie or Meowth (or both of them) to make some comment, but neither did, just rose their eyes to the seatbelt icon as it flashed green with an artificial 'ding'. Perhaps they too were thinking back on their short-lived careers in the place- with positive or negative feelings, James had no clue. His own were too much of a tangled blur to begin to unpick.

* * *

After arriving at a makeshift runway that was really little more than a large car park next to the base (cleared of other vehicles in preparation for the oncoming planes), with what the pilot had described as "generous application of the brakes" and Jessie had as "a shitty landing", a flock of grunts rushed out to meet the aircraft. They were so eager in approaching the plane that James was terrified one of them would get pulled into the still rotating blades of the propeller; to his relief, the grunts all managed to avoid such a gruesome end, and instead began helping with the wearing task of unloading the seemingly endless crates the agents on board had worn themselves out packing_ into _the cargo section only a few hours ago.

James raised a hand to his face, squinting in preparation for a sudden change in brightness as he, Jessie and Meowth stepped onto the metal stairs that sloped to the ground. Whilst the lighting did diverge greatly from inside the aircraft, it was not in the way he'd anticipated; rather, it was considerably darker outside, the sky overcast and much greyer than James remembered it being through the window. Dropping his arm, he contemplated that perhaps clouds looked darker underneath than they did overhead.

"Let's get inside," Meowth piped up, nudging James uncomfortably in the small of his back to try to get the human to move. The cat's teeth chattered audibly, almost obnoxiously loudly to the point where James suspected the Pokemon was purposely exaggerating the noise to inflate their sympathy for him.

"We get it, you're cold," Jessie said flatly, as if reading his mind. James noticed the goosebumps that had crawled up his flesh for the first time; it _was _bitter- maybe not to the point that Meowth was making it out to be, but the temperature was still low enough for the cold to bleed through the fabric of James' uniform and brush across his skin.

"I'm f-freezin'!" Meowth elaborated. He rubbed his shoulders, shivering violently- maybe it _wasn't _an act after all, James thought, though with Meowth's constant trickery it was impossible to be sure.

"At least you've got fur," he said, starting to climb down the stairs, wary of the frost that clung to each step.

"Ya got clothes!" Meowth retorted ("Thank god," Jessie mumbled with a smirk). "Hurry it up Jim, my paws are gettin' numb."

James did his best to oblige, managing to walk a little more quickly with a hand pressed against each railing. Most of the other agents who'd been on board were either helping to carry the cargo, or just making their way over to the base, which was easily visible from where they were. It loomed above the trees either side of it with impressive height, an imperfect copy of the sky reflected on its largely glass surface. As was the norm with any Team Rocket building, a red 'R' was displayed very conspicuously at the top (though James supposed the area was remote enough to get away with advertising criminal presence).

They crossed the wide spread of concrete, behind the others who'd opted out of any further heavy lifting, and filed into the building. The rise in temperature embraced James abruptly: he took a moment to appreciate the perfectly air-conditioned room.

"Ah, dat's betta," Meowth breathed, immediately finding the nearest radiator and pushing his back against the ribbed metal.

"You'd have thought that he'd be used to the cold, after all that time we spend roughing it," Jessie mumbled to James. He smiled feebly.

"Well, however many times we get blasted into the air, it never seems to get less painful," he said. "And however many times we put on a half-baked disguise and tell the twerp to give us Pikachu for some made-up reason, he never seems to get any more suspicious."

Jessie laughed- a real laugh, not the forced one he'd heard her put on so many times since Giovanni had died. The sound had become so rare that hearing it flooded James with relief, and a strange reassurance, if only for an evanescent moment.

"That's true," Jessie said eventually, and took her chin in her hand, looking pensive. "Maybe it's better that things don't change too much." Her eyes flickered sideways, and met his, a brilliant azure under the artificial lights. "At least that way, everything's predictable."

And in that moment, James had no idea how much he would grow to long for that very thing; for routine, a repetitive sequence of events: for nothing to change.

And certainly not in the way it would come to.

* * *

The hallway was crowded, to say the least. Agents ranking from grunts to senior staff crammed into the narrow space, shoes scraping against the rough carpet as they moved forward to try and make their questions heard.

"Did anyone die?"

"Was there a chase? Did the cops really show up?"

"What about all the data in the base? You guys made sure to wipe it all, right?"

"Come on," Jessie told James and Meowth as another agent who'd been on board with them started filling in the details, relishing the attention. "Let's find our room before even more people get here."

The suggestion was fairly out of character for her: usually, Jessie would be more than happy to re-tell the events to her fellow members, twisting the story so it painted the three of them in a better light than they'd ever stood in, and James and Meowth would have joined in with zeal. But, James thought, if she'd reacted in such a way at that point, it would have seemed strange. The events that had passed had lessened her usual appetite for fame, her enthusiasm for respect and reputation. She was just... _tired_, all of a sudden. They all were.

Ignoring the flight of stairs, the three lazily opted for the elevator, and waited longer than it would have taken to just walk for the lift to descend to the floor they were on. Thankfully, it was vacant, and they rode it up, cruelly reminded of their bedraggled appearance by the mirror that took up an entire wall.

Jessie located the correct room after refreshing her memory of the number on the key they'd been given at the reception, and opened the door by slotting the plastic card into the digital lock embedded into the wall, which beeped with an emerald flash.

"Thank god that's all over," she remarked, sinking onto the lower bunk of one of the beds.

"Yeah," Meowth agreed. "It felt too close for comfort at times."

James noticed a mini fridge tucked in one corner of the room, and couldn't help but feel a little hopeful at the prospect of imminent food. "Looks like they've updated the place a bit since we were last here," he said, pulling the door open and grinning despite it all at the sight of three fully stocked shelves. His eyes were drawn in particular to the branded sodas Team Rocket supplied, and he took one, along with a sandwich.

"Well, dat solves da issue of havin' ta get past dat crowd to da cafeteria," Meowth said, helping himself to a packet of dumplings.

When they'd eaten (and James had slipped the recently removed bottle cap into his pocket), Jessie announced to the others that she was taking a shower, and monopolised the bathroom for the next half-hour whilst Meowth and James alternated between doing nothing in particular and speculating on whether they'd really gotten away with ditching the base or not. A few minutes after Jessie re-emerged, wearing a clean change of uniform with her hair cascading down her back in its undried state, an agent knocked on their door and told them to turn on the news.

"Apparently there's gonna be coverage of what happened back in Kalos this morning," he explained. "Might wanna check it out."

"What channel is it on?" Jessie asked as he began to walk away.

"Two," his voice called back, and James quickly snatched the remote from the table, turning the small flat screen television on and switching channels until he found the right one.

They sat through two minutes of terrible commercials before the vaguely familiar jingle to the news played, and a smartly dressed man and woman appeared on the screen. After a tedious story about some pop star that none of them cared about having an affair, the footage changed to show the base they'd abandoned, surrounded by stationary police cars. All three of them were mildly amused by the introduction to the story, which described Team Rocket as "a highly-dangerous crime syndicate known for its ruthless approach to outsiders."

"They flatter us," Jessie cooed approvingly. Meowth held up a paw, leaning in closer to the screen.

"Shh Jess, I'm tryin' ta listen!"

"... _failed police raid early this morning that has raised questions as to whether the law enforcement is taking the right approach into disbanding illegal organisations_," the male reporter said, taking slow strides to the right. "_Just hours ago, a confirmed twenty police cars, as well as air re-enforcement and nearly a hundred armed officers, moved into the Team Rocket territory with the plan of a surprise attack that would result in the arrest of all agents present. However, by the time police officials arrived at the headquarters, it had already been evacuated_." The camera panned sideways to show an Officer Jenny, looking uncomfortable. "_Officer Jenny_," the reporter went on, looking slightly pleased with himself. "_Exactly what went wrong with today's operation?_"

"_There was no error on the behalf of the squad sent in_," Jenny replied, trying (a little unsuccessfully) to keep a poker face. "_A piece of misleading information triggered the failure, and we are doing everything within our power to track down the perpetrators_."

"_I've been told that emergency response time in the police department was extremely slow in the area for several hours, due to all the manpower invested in the mission," _the man informed her gravely. _"I'm sure the people in Kalos affected by this will be concerned that their safety is being compromised for what seems to be a wild goose chase_."

"_I can assure you that every emergency call was answered, and that no one came to harm as a result_," Jenny said, sounding more and more nervous. "_The safety of the public remains our first priority_."

"_And what can you say to the many people still worried that the likes of Team Rocket could strike at any time? Is there an end in sight to this terrible organisation_?"

"Turn it off," Jessie said as Officer Jenny began to spout promises that all Rockets would be brought to justice. James looked at her quizzically. "She's not going to tell us anything else useful, you can tell," Jessie explained. "Shame the cops are smart enough to know that what they reveal to the public, they reveal to us as well."

"At least we know that they didn't show up straight after we moved out," James said as Meowth hit the red button on the remote and the screen buzzed back to black. "That must have bought us some time, right?"

"Depends if Jenny's bluffing," Jessie shrugged, "but I'd bet that she wasn't. The cops would probably want to say anything reassuring they could afford to, just to calm the public down and stop the media from making them look as hopeless."

"Seemed like we're betta informed dan da repoita was," Meowth noted. "Didn't sound like he'd even been told 'bout da phone call."

"Or he was holding back," Jessie said. "Not that I'm complaining, but that channel's biased as hell."

* * *

The next week was surprisingly pleasant. Jessie, James and Meowth spent their spare time (which, at that point, was pretty much _all_ of their time) playing cards, helping out with odd jobs in the once familiar building or training their Pokemon. James found himself in better spirits than he had since Giovanni's murder; dare he admit it, in better spirits than he had in a long time before that. In the rare moments he'd only have his thoughts for company, they'd no longer torture him over the death of his boss, or flood his mind with the still fresh memories of helping the criminal mastermind hobble away from Meloetta and all the damage they'd caused, of the rare praise he'd given them. And when he did think of such things, James no longer felt a pang of grief in his stomach. It was as if the problem didn't exist anymore, and- frustrated at his sudden emotional barrier- he tried to convince himself it was just as real, that nothing had changed. But something inside him refused to accept it, even on the occasions he'd hear Meowth sobbing quietly into his pillow at night when the cat Pokemon thought his partners were asleep.

Denial, James told himself. That was one stage of grief, and he was sure that his strangely placid mood was a result of it. Being self-aware did nothing to change the effect it had on him, but, remembering the initial turmoil he'd felt following Giovanni's death, he grew grateful for the lack of feeling. If this was denial, James decided it was preferable by a long shot to the alternatives.

Desperate to keep themselves busy, the three of them wandered outside, and resumed the task they'd started earlier that day: packing boxes of Gym badges into a delivery truck. None of them knew if they were actually being helpful or not, seeing as how there was no current Gym Leader to challenge, but they were more interested in a distraction than creating profit for someone who no longer existed.

"Dat's box twenty," Meowth said, not strong enough to lift the cargo himself so narrating the situation instead.

"You'd have thought this would be more badges than anyone could ever give out," Jessie panted.

"Yeah," James agreed. "Even if we gave the twerps one of these for every time they've beaten us, I think we'd still have some to spare."

Jessie smiled. "Maybe someone messed up on manufacture," she said. "You know, added an extra zero or four to the quantity. Or forgot the decimal place."

Dusk was steadily approaching, the horizon a blur of bright colours and the sun no longer visible. Realising that the work would be horrendously difficult without the usual glare of streetlights to show the way, Jessie suggested that they retreat back to the building for the meantime, and find something else to do there.

"Don't they usually have lights on outside at night time?" James asked, thinking it odd that a base with such advanced technology would have its activity restricted by the cycle of the sun.

"I think they're trying not to make our presence any more obvious than they have to, with all the heat the cops are giving us at the moment," Jessie conjectured. "It might be a desolate area, but if they fly in helicopters overhead and see a bunch of lights coming from an unmapped spot in the middle of nowhere, they're bound to get suspicious and check it out."

"Good point."

"Identification?" a grunt standing outside the door asked, holding out her hand. Since security had increased, it was required of all agents to prove their membership before entering the building, whether they'd been away for several months or five minutes. Jessie and James dug out the acrylic cards from their pockets, and handed them to the woman.

_"Who's checking that _she's _a genuine Rocket?" _James thought, but not with any real concern. He knew how keen his superiors were to remedy the situation, and that they wouldn't let such a stupid oversight slip by unnoticed.

The grunt gave their IDs back, nodding. They were about to move past her when James heard the sound of approaching footsteps behind him, and noticed the woman's frown.

Stopping mere inches from the backs of the trio, the man nodded at the grunt, who looked very concerned at his presence, eyeing his navy suit and bowler hat. James watched her discreetly push an almost invisible button on the wall.

"I was told this was the best base to go to," the man said, his tone almost a drawl, but with no defining accent to it. Jessie took a step back to let him forwards, and motioned for the others to do the same. "Given the situation, it's impressive anything's running at all."

"I think you have the wrong building, sir," the grunt replied, her voice firm. A few other Rockets appeared behind her, visibly armed. The man appeared unruffled by her statement. In fact, he smiled, though not in a disagreeable way. If anything, it came across as friendly.

"I don't think I do," he chuckled, and pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his jacket pocket, holding it out to the Rockets before him, who looked at it as if it were laced with poison. The grunt hesitantly took it, and James saw her eyes skim across the words, widening slightly as they did so. Smile unmoving and just as warm, the man stepped further into the pool of light by the door, revealing light brown hair and a fairly young complexion. James estimated that he was about thirty five.

"Who are you?" one of the other agents asked sharply, motioning for the woman to pass the piece of paper to him.

"My name is Carter," the man answered, his voice calm, and showing no signs of veering from that emotion. "I'm Giovanni's cousin."


End file.
